


Take A Chance On Me

by telperion_15



Series: Chances [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hangover, M/M, Memory Loss, Misunderstanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning after, misunderstandings abound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Chance On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for fififolle.
> 
> A note about OCs:  
> Primeval fandom on LiveJournal has generated a number of fanon OCs, created by different authors and freely used by others, to the extent that some of them have now taken on lives of their own. The ones that appear in this fic, Ditzy, Kermit and Lyle, belong to fredbassett.

  
Connor stirred, cracked his eyes open a little, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.  
  
Feeling like someone was stabbing dozens of red hot needles into his eyeballs was not really the way he wanted to start his day, thank you very much. And when the pneumatic drill started up inside his head, he began to wonder whether anyone would really miss him if he smothered himself to death with his pillow. At least the afterlife would be quiet – he hoped.  
  
The only bright spot was that he didn’t feel like throwing up – yet. Which was actually something of a miracle, considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed last night.  
  
Connor frowned slightly as he thought back. Actually, the alcohol was pretty much the _only_ thing he could remember of last night. Apart from the bit where, feeling sorry for himself moping around the flat, he’d decided it would be a _fabulous_ idea to go out to club.  
  
What had possessed him he still wasn’t quite sure. Connor didn’t really _do_ clubbing. But some vague notion about trying to prove he was cool, and not a geek who sat home alone on a Friday night, had propelled him out the door. And now he was _seriously_ regretting it.  
  
His recollections of the previous evening weren’t becoming any clearer the more he thought he about it (and thinking about it wasn’t helping quiet the pneumatic drill, either). He _thought_ he remembered talking to someone else – probably the same someone else who had plied him with drinks all evening. Connor certainly didn’t recall having the money or the inclination to get as rat-arsed as he clearly had.  
  
But apart from that – logical enough – deduction, the rest of the evening was a blur.  
  
And oh look, here came the desire to throw up. Connor heaved himself out of bed, only narrowly avoiding ending up in a heap on the floor as he legs got tangled in the duvet, and bolted for the bathroom. He made it just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.  
  
Connor huddled by the toilet for a few more minutes, wary of moving too far from it, just in case. But after a while, he cautiously stood up on shaky legs and dragged himself over to the sink, prompted by the horrible taste in his mouth, which he proceeded to rinse out with copious amounts of water and mouthwash.  
  
He was examining his reflection in the mirror (and really, was it any surprise he felt like needles were being poked into his eyeballs, considering how bloodshot they were?), when he heard the noise.  
  
He froze, straining to listen over the pounding in his head. It sounded like someone was moving around in the kitchen, but it couldn’t be. Abby wasn’t here (part of the reason Connor had been feeling sorry for himself the previous night), and he was fairly sure Rex couldn’t whistle.  
  
Wait, whistle? Connor’s burgeoning theory about thieves and burglars didn’t look so likely all of a sudden - what kind of burglar would whistle? That wasn’t very stealthy, was it?  
  
Gathering his courage, Connor crept down the stairs. Perhaps, if it _was_ a burglar, the sight of a hungover Connor would be enough to scare them off. He knew he definitely wasn’t looking at his best right now.  
  
But it wasn’t a burglar.  
  
Connor blinked. Captain Ryan was standing in his kitchen.  
  
Certain parts of last night suddenly became a lot clearer.  
  
“Oh crap,” Connor muttered, just as Ryan turned around.  
  
The soldier raised an eyebrow at the sight of Connor lurking in the kitchen doorway (as if Connor didn’t have a right to be standing in his _own_ kitchen for some reason), and Connor fought not to turn bright red.  
  
He suspected he hadn’t succeeded, as the eyebrow was quickly joined by a smirk.  
  
“Morning, Connor,” Ryan said, as he turned back to the mugs and kettle that Connor could see behind him on the worktop. “Tea?”  
  
“Um, yes?” Connor squeaked, as his brain chose that moment to helpfully point out the fact that Ryan was naked from the waist up.  
  
Captain Ryan was in his kitchen _and he wasn’t wearing a shirt._  
  
Connor moved slowly to the table and dropped into a chair. Flashes of the previous evening were suddenly coming back to him. He remembered being in the club, and Ryan and Ditzy coming up to him. He remembered Ditzy leaving abruptly, and then he remembered… Connor could feel his blush intensifying. He remembered being on his knees in front of Ryan in a toilet cubicle, sucking on Ryan’s cock.  
  
He felt like he was about to spontaneously combust, and really it didn’t seem like such an awful fate.  
  
The rest of his memory was still something of a blank, and Connor was beginning to wonder whether he hadn’t plied _himself_ with alcohol, in an effort to forget what he’d done. Not that giving Ryan a blow-job had been horrible or anything – in fact, Connor recalled rather enjoying it at the time – but for fuck’s sake, _he’d given Ryan a blow-job._  
  
Connor couldn’t remember ever being so embarrassed in his life. And in addition, he was quite surprised that he was still alive. Ryan struck him as the kind of person who wouldn’t welcome those sort of advances from geeky work colleagues.  
  
No, Connor’s current hangover _must_ be the result of trying to drink himself into a stupor in order to get over the shame and rejection.  
  
Although that didn’t explain why Captain Ryan – a _semi-naked_ Captain Ryan – was in his kitchen.  
  
“Here you are.” Ryan put a mug of tea down on the table in front of Connor, startling him out of his increasingly horrifying thoughts.  
  
“Thanks,” Connor muttered, picking up the mug quickly and taking a large gulp, heedless of the fact that the tea was hot enough to burn his tongue.  
  
“How are you feeling this morning?” Ryan asked.  
  
“Like hell,” Connor answered, deciding that he might as well be honest.  
  
“Not surprising,” Ryan replied. “You were pretty far gone last night.”  
  
 _That’s not surprising, either_ , Connor thought to himself. “What are you doing here?” he said out loud, still unclear as to why Ryan hadn’t made himself _very_ scarce as quickly as possible.  
  
“Like I said, you were pretty far gone, so I thought I’d better bring you home. And when I discovered that Abby wasn’t here…”  
  
“Zoo thing,” Connor said quickly. “One of the elephants is due to give birth any day, and Abby was on nursemaid duty last night.” Then he realised that Ryan probably didn’t care about pregnant elephants.  
  
But Ryan just nodded. “Anyway, since she wasn’t here, I figured I should probably stick around. Didn’t want you throwing up in the night and choking on your own vomit or anything.”  
  
Connor blinked. “So you’ve been here all night?” he asked stupidly.  
  
“Yep. I kipped on the sofa. Hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Uh, no, not at all. I just…well, I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Last night,” said Connor, unable to articulate further. Reminding Ryan what Connor had done suddenly didn’t seem like the greatest idea. He didn’t need to experience either the anger or pity he was sure he would see in Ryan’s eyes if he brought it up.  
  
“It was no problem, Connor,” Ryan told him. He sounded sincere, and it seemed like he was going for pity rather than anger. Ryan had probably let Connor suck his cock because he felt _sorry_ for him, of all things.  
  
Connor wondered whether anger might not be preferable. At least if Ryan snapped his neck in a blind rage he wouldn’t have to suffer this humiliation any more.  
  
Abruptly, he couldn’t face being in the same room as Ryan any longer. He stood up quickly, chair scraping against the floor. “Look, I think I’m going to take a shower,” he said quickly. “Try and make myself feel a bit more human. You can let yourself out, can’t you? I’ll be fine now. Thanks again!”  
  
He bolted from the room almost before he’d finished babbling at Ryan, and headed for the bathroom again at top speed.  
  
He stayed in the shower for over half an hour, and when he finally summoned up the courage to leave the bathroom again, Ryan was gone.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ryan was confused, and as this was state he didn’t often find himself in, he didn’t like it much.  
  
The fact that the source of his confusion was one Connor Temple only made it about a hundred times worse.  
  
He honestly hadn’t meant to get Connor completely hammered that night in the club. It was just that, after what had happened between them, a few celebratory drinks had seemed to be in order. Was it his fault that Connor was a complete lightweight (Ryan ignored the little voice in his head – that sounded suspiciously like Lyle – that pointed out that, compared to him, _everyone_ was a lightweight, and hadn’t he worked this out yet?)?  
  
Of course, a totally sloshed Connor meant that, by the time they’d got back to Connor and Abby’s flat, there was definitely no chance of more celebrating, of _any_ kind. Although Ryan had discovered that he wasn’t _too_ bothered by this He wanted more from Connor than a quick shag (and now the Lyle-sounding voice in his head was laughing derisively), and was therefore prepared to wait.  
  
So he’d poured Connor into his bed (and okay, so he’d hoped he might be removing Connor’s clothing under slightly _different_ circumstances), and then flaked out himself on the sofa, hoping that Abby wasn’t going to reappear and disembowel him before she realised he _wasn’t_ a burglar catching forty winks in between jobs.  
  
But the next morning, everything had started going wrong. Connor had acted positively skittish when he’d found Ryan in the kitchen, not meeting Ryan’s eye once, and blushing more than Ryan thought it was possible for one person to blush in the space of ten minutes.  
  
And he hadn’t referred to what Ryan was now thinking of as one of the best blow-jobs of his life even _once_. Which meant one of two things: either he was under the influence of alcohol-induced amnesia, or he was regretting it.  
  
If it was the latter, there wasn’t much Ryan could do about it. Connor had already been pretty pissed by the time they’d made it to the toilets, but he’d definitely seemed to be enjoying himself, and he’d seemed perfectly happy to stay in the club with Ryan afterwards. But then, things tended to look different in the cold, harsh light of day, and if Connor was having second thoughts now, Ryan wasn’t going to push him. No matter what he might want himself.  
  
Of course, if it was the former, there was every chance Connor might remember events, given time, and possibly a few well-placed hints. Although given Connor’s reaction to finding Ryan in his kitchen, Ryan wondered whether Connor would actually _welcome_ getting his memory back. He certainly hadn’t seemed all that eager to hang around Ryan that morning, and Ryan, knowing when he wasn’t wanted, had taken the hint and left while Connor was in the shower.  
  
And he hadn’t seen Connor since.  
  
Actually, that wasn’t _strictly_ accurate. He’d seen _bits_ of Connor – normally a leg, or the trailing end of scarf – several times, as Connor hurriedly left any room that Ryan was entering. And if that wasn’t an indication that Connor didn’t want to spend any time around him, Ryan didn’t know what was.  
  
He was surprised to discover quite how much that idea made his heart ache.  
  
 _You’ve got it bad_ , the Lyle-voice whispered, and then laughed again.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
“So, how’s Temple?” Ditzy asked, as they stood together watching an apparently innocuous anomaly twirl gently in the afternoon sunshine.  
  
Lyle had taken Blade, Finn, and Hart off to check the immediate area for signs of a creature incursion, while the rest of the civilian team were standing off to one side, arguing about whether it was worth the risk to take a quick peek through the anomaly to see what was on the other side. Unsurprisingly, Cutter was very firmly in the ‘for’ camp, while it was obvious that Claudia was very much ‘against’.  
  
“How should I know?” Ryan replied, as blandly as possible. He tried very hard not to let his eyes slide towards Connor, who was currently waving his arms around in apparent agreement with Cutter, and thought he’d succeeded right up until the moment that Ditzy snorted softly and gave him a nudge with his elbow.  
  
“So the other night was a bust, was it?” Ditzy said, his tone of voice making it very clear that he wouldn’t believe Ryan if he said it was.  
  
“The other night is none of your business,” Ryan snapped, knowing he was only fuelling Ditzy’s imagination, but in no way inclined to tell him what had _actually_ happened.  
  
“Not one to kiss and tell, huh, boss?”  
  
“Lieutenant,” said Ryan icily, “please go and see what’s keeping Lyle and Hart. They’ve had enough time to comb half the countryside by now – I didn’t bring them here so they could have a jolly time playing hide-and-seek in the woods.”  
  
But if he was hoping that the order would smother Ditzy’s teasing mood, he was sadly disappointed. Ditzy merely smirked at him and said, “Right you are, boss,” before heading off into the trees.  
  
Respect for your senior officer was apparently not something they taught at army school nowadays.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan noticed that Cutter and the others had apparently finished their debate, which had been decided in favour of the ‘for’ team, it seemed. The professor was walking towards the anomaly, with Connor close behind him. Ryan sighed. It was _so_ nice of them to check with him before deciding it was okay to stick their heads through into god knew where. He was only here to _protect_ them, after all.  
  
Apparently he shouldn’t be counting on any respect from the civilian side of things either.  
  
He started to move to intercept them, intent on putting a stop to their madness (and never mind the fact that this would probably mean he had to have an actual conversation with Connor – he wasn’t a teenage girl, he could cope with it), when suddenly Kermit yelled “Incoming!”, and something burst out of the anomaly.  
  
Ryan wasn’t really aware of any kind of thought process occurring between Kermit’s shout, and the moment when he was lying on the floor with Connor on top of him.  
  
For a moment they just looked at each other, both breathless, and then Ryan’s head snapped round as, with a screech of outrage, the whatever-the-hell-it-was-o-saurus decided that the twenty-first century wasn’t somewhere it wanted to be after all, and swung back round towards the anomaly again, missing Ryan and Connor by less than two feet as it thundered past for a second time, and then disappeared into the swirling shards of light.  
  
“Clear!” Kermit shouted.  
  
But Connor didn’t move until Ryan cleared his throat, and said “Connor…”, at which point Connor’s eyes widened, and he was scrambling off Ryan, babbling apologies and generally trying to get away as quickly as he could.  
  
Ryan lay there for a few seconds longer, trying to persuade himself that he hadn’t seen what he’d thought he’d seen. The look in Connor’s eyes had been almost…frightened.  
  
But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Why on earth would Connor be frightened? Of _Ryan?_ It didn’t make sense.  
  
“You going to lie down there all day, boss?” Ditzy had returned, with Lyle, Hart, and the others in tow, no doubt drawn back by the commotion with their prehistoric visitor. He held out an arm, and Ryan allowed himself to be dragged to his feet.  
  
“Are you all right?” asked Ditzy, his eye automatically checking Ryan for injuries.  
  
“I’m fine,” Ryan replied absently, his mind still elsewhere. “Just got the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”  
  
“It’s closing!” Cutter called suddenly, and Ryan turned just in time to see the anomaly wink out of existence.  
  
He made an effort to pull himself together. “Right, that’s that, then. I take it you lads didn’t find anything in the woods?”  
  
“Not a dicky bird,” Lyle replied cheerfully. “I think we might actually have got off lightly for once.”  
  
“Good. Let’s pack up and go home then.”  
  
Back at base, with everything signed off and Lester placated with promises of reports on the morrow, Ryan’s thoughts returned to Connor.  
  
He still couldn’t quite believe that it was really fear he’d seen in the younger man’s expression, but he couldn’t think what else to label it either. It was as if Connor hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough.  
  
Ryan couldn’t deny the disappointment that that idea inspired in him. He’d thought he was managing to get over Connor pretty well (as if there was anything to ‘get over’, the voice that still sounded like Lyle reminded him), but it appeared not.  
  
But it still didn’t explain why Connor would be frightened of him. If he was regretting what had happened between them, that was _his_ problem. It shouldn’t make him scared of Ryan. Unless he thought Ryan was angry with him for leading him on, or something equally silly. Or unless…  
  
Something clicked.  
  
What if Connor thought _Ryan_ was regretting what had happened? What if he thought Ryan had had second thoughts, and was maybe even pissed off that he’d got involved with Connor at all? He’d assume Ryan wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.  
  
Ryan resisted the urge to smack his palm against his forehead. He could almost hear Connor’s reasoning in his head. _Why would someone like Ryan want someone like me? It was just a mistake, he just felt sorry for me._ Or even – horrible thought – _he was just using me to get off._  
  
Now certain he knew what was going on, Ryan decided that he had to sort things out. Connor needed to understand a few things before they wasted any more time.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Connor slumped on the sofa, staring unseeing at the television.  
  
Everything had been going fine. He’d been keeping out of Ryan’s way pretty successfully, and trying not to think about what he’d now labelled ‘The Event We Do Not Think About’ too much.  
  
But then there was a charging dinosaur, and suddenly he was sprawled on top of Ryan (which in some ways he’d quite appreciated), and everything was a bit weird there for a moment until he’d suddenly remembered that Ryan probably wouldn’t _want_ Connor sprawled on top of him, and he’d been jumping up and moving away as quickly as possible.  
  
Only now he couldn’t stop remembering how actually it had felt quite nice to be sprawled on top of Ryan, no matter how much the rational part of his brain was telling him to forget it and move on, because he’d never have a chance in hell at _that_.  
  
The doorbell rang, and Connor heard Abby shuffle out of the kitchen and go to answer it. Then she yelled, “Door for you, Connor!”  
  
“Who is it?” Connor asked, not bothering to move or turn around. He didn’t really feel like seeing anyone else right now. Even Abby seemed to have sensed he was best left to his own devices.  
  
“Why don’t you see for yourself?”  
  
Abby’s voice was suddenly right behind him, and with a sinking feeling Connor realised that she must have already invited whoever the visitor was in.  
  
However, when he turned around, the sinking feeling turned into a full-blow freefall.  
  
Ryan was here.  
  
“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it, shall I?” Abby said, her eyes darting between the two of them in a manner that suggested she’d very much like to stay and watch the show.  
  
But Ryan said, “Thanks, Abby,” and she disappeared quickly enough.  
  
And then Connor and Ryan were alone.  
  
“Hello, Connor,” said Ryan.  
  
“Hi,” replied Connor. Abruptly, he felt at a disadvantage, still slumped amongst the sofa cushions, and he scrambled quickly to his feet. “What can I do for you?” he asked, knowing he sounded oddly formal, but not really sure what else to say.  
  
Ryan took a deep breath, and then hesitated. It suddenly occurred to Connor that Ryan was nervous. Ryan was _nervous_.  
  
“I think we need to talk about a few things, Connor,” Ryan said. “Specifically, the other night.”  
  
 _Oh bugger._  
  
“I can tell by the look on your face that you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Ryan continued. “I had wondered whether you’d completely forgotten it – you were pretty far gone, after all – but then I started to suspect that maybe you recalled more than you’ve let on.”  
  
“Ryan, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…” Connor began.  
  
But Ryan held up a hand to silence him. “Wait. What, _precisely_ , do you remember?”  
  
Connor hesitated for a second, praying that the ground would open up and swallow him. But when it didn’t he realised he had no choice but to answer. “I remember meeting you and Ditzy in the club,” he recited miserably. “I remember Ditzy leaving, and then you and me having a few drinks. Then I remember we were in the toilets together, and I…you know.” He waved a hand vaguely, his face flaming as he thought about what he’d done.  
  
“Gave me a blow-job,” Ryan supplied helpfully, and a bit too calmly, in Connor’s opinion.  
  
“Yeah, that.”  
  
“And then…?”  
  
“Then it all gets a bit hazy again,” Connor admitted. “Until I found you in the kitchen the next morning.”  
  
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ryan said, looking momentarily uncomfortable. “I should have kept a better eye on you.”  
  
Connor frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, it wasn’t my intention to get you completely rat-arsed.”  
  
“It wasn’t _your_ intention…? You mean I wasn’t drowning my sorrows?”  
  
“Far from it,” Ryan told him. “You seemed quite happy to me.”  
  
“Happy…?” Connor was still confused.  
  
“Connor,” said Ryan, with exaggerated patience, “what do you recall, _specifically_ , about the blow-job you gave me?”  
  
 _That sucking your cock felt amazing_ , was the first thing that flashed across Connor’s brain, but with an effort he stopped the words coming out of his mouth. “Um…” he said instead.  
  
“Do you, for example, remember me pushing you away?” Ryan continued.  
  
“No…”  
  
“Do you remember me telling you to stop?”  
  
“Well, no…”  
  
“Because I was going to.”  
  
“What?” Connor’s heart sank. He’d thought for a moment, hoped, that…  
  
“I was going to tell you to stop because you seemed quite drunk, and I wanted to make sure that you actually wanted it as much as I did.”  
  
“Huh?” said Connor articulately. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.  
  
“You heard me,” said Ryan, smiling a little. “But as it turned out, you made your feelings on the subject _quite_ clear when you told me to, as I recall, _shut up_ before you proceeded to suck my brains out through my dick.”  
  
“So, it was good for you, then?” Connor asked, and then immediately cringed at the horrendous cliché.  
  
Ryan looked like he was having to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes, Connor,” he said clearly. “It was good for me. In fact, it was bloody _fantastic_ for me. Hence the, perhaps ill-advised, need to celebrate getting my hands on you by having a few too many drinks.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“You thought I regretted it, didn’t you?” Ryan said, in a softer tone. “You thought I was angry with you, or disgusted, or something. Or perhaps even pitied you.”  
  
This was so close to exactly what Connor had been thinking that he started to suspect Ryan of being able to read minds. “Well, can you blame me?” he protested. “I mean, look at you, and look at me. We hardly…match.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Connor, who cares about that?” Ryan said. “You’re attracted to me, I’m attracted to you – that’s all that matters.”  
  
“You’re attracted to me?”  
  
“ _Yes_ , Connor, of course I am!”  
  
“Wow.” Connor grinned. He couldn’t help it.  
  
Ryan finally had to release his eye-roll, it seemed. “Yes, wow,” he repeated dryly. “I think you’re hot, and I think you give fantastic blow-jobs.”  
  
“You do?” Connor said, his grin widening.  
  
“Don’t get a big head,” Ryan told him, but he was grinning too.  
  
“But…oh…” Connor suddenly sobered. “So I guess you were hoping for a bit more when you brought me home the other night, then.”  
  
“I won’t lie – I _am_ hoping we can get a bit further than one blow-job, yes,” Ryan replied. “But the other night, all I wanted was to make sure you got home safe, and were okay. I can’t deny that I was _extremely_ pissed off with myself for getting you that drunk – who knows what might have happened otherwise – but I wouldn’t have taken advantage of you in that state. Well, no more than I already had, anyway.”  
  
Ryan suddenly looked faintly guilty, and Connor said quickly, “Haven’t we already established that you didn’t take advantage of me? I wanted what happened at the club, and at that point I was sober enough to make my own decisions.”  
  
Ryan’s brow cleared a little. “Okay,” he said. Then he gave Connor a look. “So, are we on the same page now?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
“Does that mean I can kiss you, then? Because I really fucking want to.”  
  
“Oh, okay…”  
  
Connor would have grinned again at the turn events had taken, but he couldn’t, because Ryan had crossed the room lightning quick, and was kissing him. Another piece of Connor’s memory from the evening in club slotted into place. He’d remembered kissing Ryan, of course, but he hadn’t quite recalled how bloody good it felt. He made an appreciative noise, and wound his arms around Ryan’s neck.  
  
“Hey, guys, are to done ye…wow, okay, sorry didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll just…”  
  
Connor broke away from Ryan in time to see Abby doing some rapid back-pedalling in the direction of her room, looking simultaneously amused and embarrassed.  
  
But it was Ryan who spoke, before Connor could gather his wits again. “Sorry, Abby, you don’t have to go. It’s your living room. Connor and I will vacate.” He gave Connor an expectant look.  
  
“Um, yeah, right, sure. We can, um…we can go to my room!”  
  
Abruptly, Connor realised just how much like an invitation that sounded, and he flushed. “I mean…that is…if you want to?”  
  
Ryan smiled. “Sounds good to me.”  
  
“Actually, you know what? I’ve just remembered a thing I’ve got to do. At the zoo…” Abby said suddenly.  
  
“More elephant babysitting?” Ryan questioned, his expression bland but his eyes amused.  
  
Abby glared at him. “Yes,” she replied defiantly.  
  
Connor caught on. “Abby, you _live_ here,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to go.”  
  
“Oh, I really do, Connor,” Abby said. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Besides, the elephants need me.” And then she winked at him.”  
  
Several seconds later, Ryan nudged him. “So, you were saying something about your room…?”  
  
Connor became aware that he was still gaping at the space where Abby had been before she’d departed at speed out the front door. Then he realised that he really wasn’t focussing on the most interesting thing in the room right now, and pulled himself to together. “My room, yes, absolutely…”  
  
“Well, lead the way then,” Ryan said, grinning.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Darting into the room ahead of Ryan, Connor quickly scooped up a few items of dirty clothing, some unwashed plates that were unfortunately several days old, and a couple of comic books, and shoved them all out of sight inside the wardrobe.  
  
Judging by the small smirk on Ryan’s face he hadn’t been quite quick enough at burying the evidence of his geeky, messy lifestyle, but the other man didn’t seem to mind really, stalking towards Connor and backing him towards the bed.  
  
He stopped just short of actually pushing Connor down on to the mattress though, and instead proceeded to kiss the breath out of him, until Connor was slightly light-headed, and not really caring a bit.  
  
“I want to fuck you, Connor,” Ryan muttered. “Can I?”  
  
“God, yes,” Connor replied, a little too quickly and a little too enthusiastically, if the return of Ryan’s smirk was anything to go by.  
  
“Good,” said Ryan. “Because I’ve been desperate to ever since the other night.”  
  
His words did something rather funny to Connor’s insides. The idea that _Captain Ryan_ , of all people, desperately wanted to get into bed with him, was something that Connor was still having some trouble believing, despite said captain’s current presence in his bedroom.  
  
But his cock was having _no_ trouble believing it, getting hard so fast at Ryan’s request that Connor almost felt dizzy.  
  
Ryan had stepped back, and was stripping off quickly and methodically. Connor just stood and watched him for several moments – he’d caught glimpses in the showers after anomaly shouts, but now he was getting a private show all to himself – until he realised that it would probably help if he was naked too, and started pulling his own clothes off in an uncoordinated hurry.  
  
It didn’t occur to him to be embarrassed until he was down to just his boxers. Then, he couldn’t help starting to compare himself to Ryan, and came to the inevitable conclusion that this was one contest he was _definitely_ losing.  
  
Ryan, however, didn’t appear to agree. His eyes swept up and down Connor’s nearly naked body a couple of times, and then he closed the gap between them, fingers sliding under the elastic of Connor’s boxers and pushing them down over his hips and thighs until gravity took over and they dropped to his ankles.  
  
Connor’s breath hitched as Ryan immediately pressed up against him, trapping both Connor’s cock and his own between their bodies as he kissed Connor again.  
  
Then, with no warning, he gave Connor a small shove so he fell backwards on to the bed.  
  
Connor squawked in surprise, and then fought the desire to curl up in mortification as Ryan chuckled at him. “Don’t _do_ that,” he said crossly, and then poked his tongue out at Ryan’s completely unrepentant smile.  
  
Then Ryan looked at him in that sort of intense way again, and Connor promptly forgot all his annoyance and embarrassment.  
  
“Do you have any supplies?” Ryan asked, and it took Connor a moment to work out what he was talking about.  
  
“Oh! Er, no…” Suddenly he felt like the stupidest person alive. Why the bloody hell didn’t he have any condoms or anything? Never mind the fact that he didn’t normally have any need for them, and hadn’t thought he would tonight. ‘Always have condoms’ – that was going to be his motto from now on.  
  
Ryan grinned. “Lucky I came prepared then, isn’t it?” he said. Crossing to the chair where he’d placed his clothes, he rummaged in the pocket of his jeans and produced a condom packet and a tube of lube.  
  
Connor mentally amended his new motto to ‘Always have condoms and lube’.  
  
“Turn over, then,” Ryan instructed, and Connor quickly complied so he was laying face down, his cock trapped beneath him. He hissed a little at the sensation of the cotton bed sheets rubbing against sensitive skin.  
  
He felt the bed dip as Ryan stretched out beside him, and propped himself up on his forearms so he could turn his head and accept another kiss. Ryan’s hands stroked down Connor’s back, and across the swell of his arse, and Connor shivered slightly in anticipation.  
  
“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Ryan murmured, “but I can’t promise my self-control will be as good as it normally is.” He winked, and Connor shivered again. The idea of an out-of-control Ryan was intoxicating.  
  
“You won’t hurt me,” he proclaimed. “Just _please_ hurry up.”  
  
Ryan chuckled, but didn’t comment on Connor’s impatience. Instead he opened the lube and squirted some on to his fingers. Connor gasped as he felt a slippery digit slide between his buttocks and press slowly into him. It felt different to when he’d experimented on himself, and a little bit weird, but good at the same time. He said so, and added another impatient plea.  
  
With a small smile, Ryan pushed his finger in a bit further, searching until he found the spot that made Connor full-on shudder.  
  
“Fuck, Ryan, do that again!”  
  
Ryan obliged, several more times, and then, while Connor was trying to gather a few of his scattered brain cells back together, slipped a second finger into Connor’s body.  
  
The stretch was more intense with two fingers, and Connor wriggled slightly, trying to adjust. But it wasn’t long before Ryan was rubbing against his prostate again, and he quickly decided that this was the best feeling in the world.  
  
He still wanted more, though, and he wasn’t above begging for it. “Come on, Ryan, I need…I want…”  
  
“Patience,” Ryan told him, with mock sternness. Despite his warning about his possible lack of self-control, to Connor he seemed _very_ controlled indeed. Connor could feel Ryan’s cock pressed up against his hip, proof that Ryan was very much _not_ unaffected by proceedings, but he seemed perfectly happy to keep Connor in tenterhooks for as long as possible.  
  
A third finger was added, and Ryan was properly stretching him now, concentrating more on that than teasing Connor’s prostate. Then, after a few moments more, he removed all three fingers, and shifted his position on the bed so he could grip Connor’s hips and pull him back and up until he was on his hands and knees.  
  
Connor heard the sound of the condom packet being ripped open, and swallowed suddenly at the thought of what was about to happen. Ryan wasn’t small, and he knew there was every possibility this might hurt some.  
  
Still, he _wanted_ it, so when Ryan asked “Ready?” he nodded vigorously, the movement making his cock bob between his legs.  
  
When Ryan started pressing into him, it _did_ hurt, but not as much as Connor had feared. He concentrated on the feeling of being filled by Ryan’s cock, and imagined what it must look like from Ryan’s point-of-view, with Connor stretching around him, and felt his cock throb when Ryan’s balls brushed gently against his arse.  
  
“Fuck, Connor, you feel good…” Ryan said. “You all right?”  
  
Connor nodded again, and he felt Ryan take a firmer grip on his hips before he started to thrust slowly – small, shallow movements at first, building up to deeper thrusts as he withdrew almost completely from Connor’s body before driving back in as far as he could.  
  
It felt amazing, the remaining burn just adding an extra spice to the sensations that were flooding through Connor’s body. He desperately wanted to touch his cock, but knew if he tried to take a hand off the mattress he’d end up face-planting into the pillows, which he suspected would kill the mood slightly.  
  
However, Ryan seemed to have read his mind, because after a couple more thrusts he removed his own hands from Connor hips, placing one in the small of Connor’s back to steady him as he continued to fuck him, and reaching round with the other one to grab Connor’s cock, stroking it roughly almost in rhythm with his thrusts.  
  
It didn’t take long after that, although much to Connor’s surprise it was Ryan who came first, the movement of his hand on Connor’s cock becoming roughly and uncoordinated as he orgasmed deep inside Connor’s arse with a growl of Connor’s name  
  
He had enough presence of mind to finish Connor off, though, and Connor came a few seconds later, spurting over Ryan’s hand and the sheets as he gasped through his climax.  
  
Ryan withdrew after a moment or two, and Connor allowed himself to slump forward, grimacing a little when he ended up in the wet patch, but not caring quite enough to summon up the energy to move again. He felt Ryan lie down beside him again, and turn his head so he could grin at him goofily.  
  
“You’ve done that before,” he said.  
  
Ryan smiled. “Once or twice,” he allowed. Then his gaze sharpened. “Have you?” he asked.  
  
“Not like that,” replied Connor unconcernedly, still basking in the afterglow. “It’s good, isn’t it?”  
  
“Connor, please don’t tell me I’ve unknowingly just deflowered you.”  
  
Connor snickered at Ryan’s choice of words. “Anyone would think we’re in a Mills and Boon novel,” he said. “But no, you didn’t ‘deflower’ me. It’s just, that was _really_ good.”  
  
“You’re going to be good for my ego, I can tell,” Ryan said, smirking.  
  
“Says the man who told me I give, and I quote, ‘fantastic blow-jobs’.”  
  
Ryan laughed. “Okay, so we’re going to be good for each other’s egos.”  
  
Connor pressed a bit closer to him. “Sounds good to me.”


End file.
